A Borrowed Scot

by Karen Ranney

  That wasn’t entirely true. He’d been afraid numerous times in the last five years and wanted to run like the Devil was chasing him. Circumstances, and perhaps pride, had kept him rooted in place. What he wanted to do and what he was compelled to do were often different, fear be damned.

  When he entered the room, Veronica shook her head again. He ignored her that time and approached Norma, awkwardly patting the girl on the shoulder.

  “Was William a Doncaster Hall lad?” he asked.

  Norma not only looked horrified at his presence but was evidently incapable of answering him.

  He smiled to reassure her and kept patting her.

  She blinked rapidly, curved her lips into a determined smile, and stared up at him. “No, Your Lordship,” she finally said.

  He nodded and patted her one last time. “Tell Mrs. Brody I’ve given you the rest of the day. Go to your room and rest, Norma. Everything will be all right.”

  She slowly stood, nodding. “If you say so, sir.” She offered the crumpled handkerchief to Veronica, but his wife merely closed Norma’s hand around it.

  “Everything will be all right,” she said, repeating his words. Norma looked a great deal more convinced when Veronica said it.

  When the girl left the room, he turned to Veronica.

  “You felt her fear?”

  She nodded, her face expressionless. Her eyes, however, bore a wary look, one he’d seen before.

  “You’re afraid I’ll ridicule you,” he said.

  She looked surprised at his assertion. “You haven’t made any secret of what you think of my Gift,” she said.

  Had he been that intolerant of her?

  “Are you feeling something from me right at the moment?”

  She regarded him with more than a little suspicion.

  “I want to know,” he said. “Truly.”

  “Contentment, perhaps, but excitement, too.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’re flying today, and I expect you’re always excited to be flying.”

  Surprised, he nodded. “I am. I’ve come to get you. Everyone else is already in place, waiting for me to fly.”

  “You’re very certain you’ll be safe?”

  He decided now was not the time to tell her about the other mishaps he’d had when piloting an airship. No flight was ever truly safe. Man was not a bird, after all, however much he might want to be.

  They walked out of the house, and as they approached the arched bridge, he nodded to the people of Doncaster Hall. Most of the young men had asked to be part of the rope brigade, but the women were congregated near the bridge for the best view of the airship. He walked Veronica to Elspeth’s side.

  Ahead, fully inflated, was the oval envelope of his airship, nearly three times the size of his balloon. The ship was the equal of the distillery behind it, the blue silk trembling in the faint breeze as if it were anxious to make its maiden voyage. A new burner, specially constructed for an envelope of this size, sat beneath its throat, roaring in excitement.

  Veronica’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything further—no words of encouragement or caution or even curiosity. He stood in front of her and waited until her head tilted back, and her eyes met his. Only then did he realize she was trembling, too.

  “Don’t be afraid, Veronica,” he said softly, then bent his head and, in full view of the crowd, kissed his wife.

  She swayed against him, placing her hands on his chest.

  Whenever he touched her, she took flame, as combustible as the burner on his airship. She was so responsive to him, she would have let him grab her hand, pull her into the distillery, and love her for the afternoon, to hell with their audience outside.

  The temptation engaged him for more than a fleeting moment.

  He ended the kiss, brushed his knuckles against her flushed cheek, and smiled.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t look as if she believed him.

  He hesitated, then walked toward the distillery. Sometimes, actions could demonstrate what words failed to convey.

  “Today’s the day, Ralston,” he said, approaching the gondola. He nodded to the ten men holding the ropes. The envelope was still shivering, anxious to be gone from earth like a winged thoroughbred.

  “That it is, Your Lordship. That it is.”

  Both men stared up at the huge blue silk envelope. This ship differed from the one in which he’d taken Veronica. The first balloon had been launched to test the air currents. This ship would master them. The envelope was larger, oval, with a pointed nose. The gondola was rectangular and much longer than the basket for his balloon.

  The main difference between the two vehicles, however, was that he could control the direction of the airship. At the top of the envelope were several baffles controlled by wires fed down through the balloon to a control panel in the gondola. In addition, he’d created vents on either side of the ship to direct airflow and a set of fins on the rear and the front to control direction.

  If his design proved as successful as he hoped, he’d petition the United States government to reestablish the Balloon Corps. A balloon had a practical application beyond that of spying on the enemy’s troop movements in time of war.

  “I’d ask you to accompany me,” he said to Ralston, “but you’ve already indicated how you feel about flying.”

  “And if you’d asked me, I’d just have to tell you no, Your Lordship. I’m Scots by birth, British by law, and a Highlander by the grace of God, but I’m no eagle.”

  Montgomery laughed, entered the gondola, and began his last-minute checks on the burner.

  Ralston surprised him by producing a bottle of wine with a flourish. “I trust you’ll not object, sir, but I’ve taken a bottle from the cellar to christen your ship.”

  “To do that, I’d have to name her, Ralston,” he said.

  Ralston looked crestfallen. “Is that not done, sir?”

  “Indeed it is,” he said, thinking of the two ships he’d piloted in the war. The Freedom had gone down in 1862; The Union had been retired a year later.

  “Have you any ideas, sir?”

  “The Intrepid,” he said, thinking of Veronica.

  “A good choice, Your Lordship,” Ralston said. “Fearless.”

  “Or audacious,” Montgomery said.

  Ralston handed him the uncorked bottle of wine. Montgomery poured a little over the corner of the basket. “Should I say something, do you think?”

  They stared up at the envelope, then at each other. The corner of Ralston’s mouth twitched.

  “I’ve no knowledge of christening rituals, Your Lordship. Not for airships.”

  “What about sailing ships? I’d think it would be similar, don’t you?”

  Montgomery poured a little wine on the grass outside the gondola. “I christen thee the Intrepid.”

  “A good choice, Your Lordship.”

  “A good idea, Balloon Master.”

  Ralston grinned, the unexpected expression banishing twenty years from his face.

  He donned his gloves, turned the burner on full, and saluted Ralston.

  “Best of luck, Your Lordship!” Ralston shouted over the increasing noise of the burner.

  “Let it go, Ralston,” he called out.

  Ralston gave the nod to the four lines of men holding the mooring ropes, and slowly they began to walk toward the gondola.

  The inhabitants of Doncaster Hall cheered as the airship began its slow ascent. He smiled, pleased by their reaction, and waved. A moment later, however, he was involved with the details of flight: checking the burner, testing the navigational paddles as well as the wires to the baffles.

  As always, the first twenty feet made him feel as if his stomach were dropping to his knees. Then the surge of excitement sent his blood racing and his pulse pounding.

  Whenever he flew, he didn’t have to remember. The scenery wasn’t as important as the freedom he felt, untethered, and alone. Every flight, after that first adventure six years
ago, he’d felt the same. Being airborne, the sensation of being poised between earth and heaven, was almost like taking a drug. Being in his airship made him feel both insignificant and powerful.

  There, he could forget Virginia, could push back the specters of the last five years. There, even Alisdair, James, and Caroline did not follow.

  As he hovered above the waving crowd of Scots, he realized he wouldn’t be alone. Not as long as people from Doncaster Hall were watching: anxious, excited, and amazed.

  He was their laird, their leader.

  They’d welcomed him, all the people of Doncaster Hall, with a great deal more grace than he’d accepted being there. Not once had he heard any grumbling. He was the 11th Lord Fairfax, and they’d simply acknowledged that circumstance had made him, temporarily to them, an American.

  The hills around Doncaster Hall were so deeply green they appeared almost blue, the lushness appealing to the planter in him. Too many damn sheep grazed on the far hills, clinging tenaciously to the rocky ground at the base of the mountains. Had it not been for sheep, his grandfather would have remained in Scotland. Had it not been for sheep, Montgomery might have been a crofter himself. Or employed at Doncaster Hall, serving another Fairfax.

  He should ask Edmund about the other employees at Doncaster Hall. What kept them here? The clan system was long gone. Or did they simply have a feel for the land, the country, the place?

  Veronica felt the same tie.

  I’m a Scot, Montgomery. I belong here.

  The time had come to test his navigational design. He was hovering between Doncaster Hall and Ben Wyliss. If his prototype worked, he would be able to direct the ship back toward the house. If it didn’t, he’d basically be at the mercy of the winds, like a balloon, and his landing would be accomplished by releasing the heated air from the envelope.

  He began his first pass, hearing the cheering and feeling like shouting himself as he guided the ship over the house. Damned if his design didn’t work! The second turn was as effortless as the first, and his smile felt permanently affixed.

  The sudden sputtering sound caught his attention. Montgomery glanced up, saw the flame go from bright blue to orange to nothing. Reaching up, he fired the burner again, but the flame didn’t catch.

  At least no one was shooting at him.

  The last time he’d experienced a problem with a burner had been over Fort Monroe. On that occasion, they’d gone down in the Elizabeth River, a descent that might have killed both him and his helper if it had been over land.

  The burner didn’t catch again, but the ship would still stay in the air for a few minutes, long enough for him to coast to a landing somewhere level. He wasn’t panicked; years of training had equipped him to think of all contingencies in a hurried yet orderly pattern.

  Everything would have been fine if he hadn’t been too close to the damn mountain.

  Of all the idiocy, to survive four years of war to die on a beautiful day in the Highlands.

  Chapter 26

  One moment, Montgomery’s magnificent ship was silhouetted against the sky, an enormous man-made blue cloud. Her throat closed, her heart swelled with pride. Montgomery had done this. All on his own, he’d harnessed the air, become a god in the machine he’d devised.

  As if to demonstrate how talented he was, the airship veered to the left, circling Doncaster Hall. The crowd around her shouted, arms waving in pride and excitement.

  Veronica stood where she was, smiling, thrilled at Montgomery’s achievement. How proud he must be. His navigation system was working.

  If he could steer his ship, then they wouldn’t have to have outriders following them. He’d know where they were going to land, not too close to the River Tairn like last time.

  She studied the envelope as it passed the second time, wondering if she was imagining what she saw. Wrinkles were appearing on the smooth surface of the silk. The oval shape of the ship changed as she watched, became rounder, like the inverted teardrop of Montgomery’s balloon. Seconds elongated to hours as she watched him, the silk growing more puckered as time elapsed.

  Around her, the crowd began to murmur, the pride of earlier moments transformed to worry, then fear.

  Montgomery was on the far side of Doncaster Hall, no longer flying in a circle. If he didn’t change direction, he would head directly for Ben Wyliss.

  A woman in front of her screamed as the bow of the airship abruptly dipped.

  A second later, the ship fell from sight.

  There was no time to think. His hands automatically performed the duties learned over years. He tried to fire the burner, but nothing was happening. He let go the last of the emergency ballast bags, but that didn’t lessen the speed of his descent.

  In the end, all he could do was brace himself against one of the supports and prepare for the impact.

  The ground was hurtling up to meet him. The only thing he could hear was the rush of the wind, as if God had taken pity on him and muffled the sound of his own racing heart. The river was too close, but even that landing place would have been a blessing next to crashing into the mountain. A sudden gust of wind seemed to toy with his mortality, sending the gondola nearly perpendicular to the sagging envelope.

  He’d wondered about that moment often enough, ever since he’d first challenged himself to fly. What would be his thoughts if he knew he was going to die? He’d been in difficult situations before, but none as risky as this. Would he feel regret? Yes—well, that was a question answered. And sorrow. He felt such acute sorrow that it startled him.

  He didn’t want to be a ghost in Veronica’s life.

  Damn it, he didn’t want to die.

  Montgomery had disappeared.

  The crowd surged forward as Elspeth pulled at her sleeve. Veronica shook it off. She saw Elspeth’s mouth moving, but couldn’t understand her words. A dull roaring noise flooded her ears, as words struck her like bricks.

  “Falling.”

  “Disaster.”

  “Dead.”

  The world began to slow, each separate movement taking place in air suddenly gone syrup-like and thick. She was oddly cold. Her hands felt frozen, the tips of her fingers without sensation. A curious fog slipped over her like a gray blanket.

  Her thoughts were sluggish as if she were new to the process of thinking. She should join the others, but she couldn’t move. She should say something. How odd she’d lost the power of speech.

  Mrs. Brody passed her. “I’ll get the basket, Lady Fairfax.” Yes, the basket. The basket Mrs. Brody used whenever one of the staff was ill or suffered an injury.

  She closed her eyes, tried to remember to breathe. Breathing was necessary, wasn’t it? There, she was breathing again. She opened her eyes to find Elspeth looking at her oddly. The maid’s hand was on her arm. Aunt Lilly wouldn’t be pleased. A servant never touched an employer. It didn’t matter anymore.

  I can’t do this again.

  Had she said that aloud? She must have, since Elspeth was looking at her with sympathy. That was even worse, wasn’t it? Aunt Lilly would be lecturing her for laxity in dealing with the servants. Yet Aunt Lilly would be calling for her smelling salts about now.

  Montgomery had fallen.

  I can’t lose someone I love again.

  She could not love Montgomery Fairfax. He was an annoying American who believed that nothing was quite as good as Virginia. He had a bad habit of keeping silent when most civil men would have spoken. He rarely revealed himself, and when he did, it was to expose a level of pain or anger she couldn’t reach.

  Yet he’d introduced her to passion and accompanied her on every journey to bliss. She wanted him to touch her all the time, even when it was vastly improper. She thought about him constantly, blushing when alone, imagining their loving even when she was surrounded by others.

  She could not love him, but she did.

  He might be dead.

  I can’t do this.

  She couldn’t move. She was planted in the ground a
s firmly as the heather. The wind plucked at her hair, blowing tendrils across her face. Her heart, stubborn to the last, continued, one stolid beat at a time. She felt as if she were dying by degrees.

  I can’t do this.

  She couldn’t go to him. She could not kneel beside his broken body. She could not cradle his head on her lap and brush his thick black hair away from his beautiful face. She could not whisper last words to him, words of love she’d never said, never had the courage to say.

  What had he said? Something about facing her fear. How could she do that?

  Montgomery.

  In the instant before impact, Montgomery’s thoughts went to Veronica. Not to his brothers or Caroline, but the woman who’d fascinated, amused, and charmed him since first meeting her at the Society of the Mercaii.

  The wind carried the gondola, turning it over until he was almost tipped out. Just as he thought he was certain to be smashed into the side of the mountain, the gusts played with him again like a cat with a ball of yarn. The impact zone changed, suddenly. He was no longer facing a mountain but coming closer to the trees that surrounded Doncaster Hall.

  He grinned. He might just escape disaster.

  He heard the screams below him, wanted to wave his arms to reassure them, but he’d be a fool to give up his grip on the supports, especially since the wind showed no sign of gentling. A few seconds later, he was thrown into the ancient oaks as if God and the wind had abruptly tired of using him as a plaything.

  The only sounds were the breaking of the branches around him, the groans as the gondola caught, slipped, then caught again.

  Gradually, however, he became aware of shouts and screams below him, altered in nature. Instead of panic, there was excitement and joy in the voices he heard. He peered over the edge of the gondola, grabbed a nearby branch for support, and waved.

  Ralston was among the first to arrive, followed by some lads from the stable. All of the first-floor maids arrived together like a gaggle of geese. Elspeth’s husband, Robbie, the members of the red and blue fire brigade, Tom, all appeared below him.

  Where the hell was Veronica?